


Fly Me to the Glass Moon

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, M/M, Spring Fling, Supernatural Spring Fling 2017, fake/pretend husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: "Best gay foster uncles ever. Am I right, Alex?”A/N: Title from Dream Theater.





	Fly Me to the Glass Moon

**  
** Claire  


 

“Enchantment under the sea? Really?” Claire rolls on to her back, her head on Alex’s pillow, squinting at the colorful flyer Alex has just handed her.

“If you make one _Back to the Future_ joke,” Alex says, “I’m taking someone else to the prom.”

“Seriously. I’m home for like two seconds, and this is the welcome I get?”

She’d meant to sound teasing, but Alex’s face goes rapidly from annoyed to… something else that Claire doesn’t want to dwell too much on. “Seriously,” Alex echoes. “Are you okay? Living on the road can’t be easy.”

“I’m a hunter, not a hooker.” Claire swats at Alex with a cushion.

“You know what I mean.” Alex’s lips are pursed.

Claire pulls her on to the bed, cheering her up the best way she knows how. Alex’s lips taste of sweet, sticky gloss, and Claire knows she’ll never be able to find the words to tell her how much she’s missed this over the last few weeks.

“Hey,” she says when they come up for air, with Alex looking satisfyingly disheveled. “You said Jody can’t be a chaperone at the dance because she’s got a thing, right? I’ve got an awesome idea.”

 

\--

 

“You said _what_?” Sam looks slightly panicked.

“That Jody’s away, and her cousin and his husband will come as chaperones instead.” Claire hasn’t had so much fun since she took down a poltergeist in Iowa a week ago. “You two clean up real nice, by the way. Best gay foster uncles ever. Am I right, Alex?”

Sam and Dean are dressed in identical tuxedos, presumably rented: also presumably cheap, but they make their outfits look good. Not that she’d ever tell them that; she has too much fun ribbing them about how much older they are.

Sam fidgets with his bow-tie. “I get chaperoning, but why couldn’t we just be brothers?”

“Because it’s more fun this way.” Alex grins, reaching up to adjust his bow-tie for him.

“Hey,” Dean says. “You could do worse than me.”

“I could also do better,” Sam points out. In retaliation, Dean licks his thumb and uses it to smooth a strand of Sam’s hair back into place.

Sam bats Dean’s hand away. “You are so fucking gross, man.”

“Language, Sammy.”

“See? We’re all having fun already.” Claire grins at Alex, who dissolves into laughter. It’s good to hear.

 

\--

 

“So how’s the hunting going? You don’t exactly call much,” Sam asks. They’re sitting near the bowl of punch; Sam has apparently taken his role as chaperone seriously enough to want to make sure that no one spikes the drinks.

“You really going to be a party pooper and watch the punch like a hawk?” Claire asks, taking a large sip from her glass. “This stuff would really taste so much better with some vodka in it.”

“I’m sure the kids are resourceful enough to find a way. Nice way to change the subject, by the way.”

Claire sighs. The guy’s like a dog with a bone. “It’s okay, I guess.” She pops a fry into her mouth, offering Sam her plate. He shakes his head. “Watching your weight, old man?” she teases.

Sam laughs. “Dean eats enough of this stuff for the both of us and then some. So, just ‘okay’?”

Claire shrugs. “Better than being in school and not being able to do anything about everything bad that’s out there. You know the feeling, right?”

“Right.” Sam fiddles with his cuff for a moment, and she lets him take his time. “I left my family when I was about your age.”

“What made you go back?” She watches Sam searching the crowd until his gaze falls on Dean, who’s chatting with Ms Gray, the English teacher, his face schooled into an expression of polite attentiveness. He looks over at Sam and winks.

Claire nudges Sam’s ankle under the table. “You two sure keep an eye on each other.”

“Ha. You’re the same with Alex. Bet you know exactly where she is right now.”

“Hey, I’m not my pseudo-sister’s keeper.” Sam holds her gaze, grinning, until she relents. “All right, all right. She’s in the washroom powdering her delicate nose.”

“Jody know about you two?” Sam asks casually, taking a sip of his punch.

“How did you—you know what, never mind. Now who’s changing the subject?”

“Dean,” Sam says. “I went back for Dean.” He gives her a quick grin. “Also, I have eyes. And I think she’s about to ask you to dance.” Alex comes up to the table, looking positively stunning in her silver-gray dress and Jody’s diamond earrings, and holds out her hand to Claire.

Claire gets up, smoothening the little black dress that Alex made her wear. The things she puts up with for that girl, really. “Gotta go,” she tells Sam, taking Alex’s hand. “Duty calls.”

 

\--

 

** Sam **

 

“Sure you don’t wanna dance, princess?” Dean slips into the chair Claire has just vacated.

“Very funny.” Sam nods toward the teacher Dean’s been talking to. “Nice chat?”

“She knows almost as much about Shakespeare as you do,” Dean says with a straight face, helping himself to Claire’s abandoned fries. He glances at Sam. “Jealous much?”

“You wish.”

“Hey, I _am_ your husband. You’re allowed to keep me in line. Make sure I don’t stray.”

It takes Sam a moment to remember that they’re pretend husbands that night. “With that attitude, it’s a wonder no one’s made an honest man of you yet.”

“Other than my adoring husband, you mean?” Dean bats his eyelashes at Sam, grinning stupidly.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on, Sammy. Lemme have my fun. And a dance with my man.”

Sam blinks. “You’re serious.”

Dean shrugs. “Why not? We’re allowed.”

“Claire and Alex know we’re brothers, doofus.”

“Aww, Sammy. You’re so cute when you call me names.”

Dean leans in as if to kiss him, and Sam stops him with a hand on his chest. “Dean. Not here.”

“In the hallway, then,” Dean says without missing a beat. He’s out of his chair before Sam can think of a response.

Sam waits for a minute, wondering if Dean’s just messing with him, but Dean doesn’t come back. He glances at the floor where Claire and Alex are dancing, completely out of sync with each other but laughing, sweaty strands of hair sticking to their foreheads and cheeks.

Claire throws him a grin over Alex’s shoulder, and Sam gives her a thumbs up. “Go for it,” he mouths. Claire gives him the finger behind Alex’s back, but she pulls Alex closer, dropping a quick kiss on the other girl’s shoulder before twirling her around.

Still smiling, Sam goes out into the hallway. Dean’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, humming along to the music floating out from the gym.

Seeing Sam, he pushes himself off the wall and holds out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Rolling his eyes, Sam steps into his arms. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Said the prettiest husband a guy could ask for.” Dean easily maneuvers Sam closer until they’re pressed up together, Dean’s warmth solid and familiar against Sam’s body. He slides his fingers into Sam’s hair and brings their faces so close that their lips are almost touching.

“Who said you could lead?” Sam asks as Dean begins swaying them to the music.

“I always lead,” Dean says promptly, waggling his eyebrows. The band switches to a cover of an America track, and he begins singing along. “ _Don’t know the right things to say, so I pretend away, that I’m Rudolph Valentino, I pull up in my limousine…_ ”

There’s silvery light in the narrow corridor, the moon hanging perfectly full outside. Sam remembers almost losing Claire not very long ago; it’s almost surreal, being here in Dean’s arms like there aren’t a million things that could go wrong with their lives at any moment, not to mention a gym full of teenagers and teachers on the other side of the wall, but Sam’s not such a fool that he won’t take it. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, smiling against Dean’s mouth.

“Just shut up and dance, Sammy. _Just like Greta Garbo, you stare like there’s no tomorrow—_ ”

Sam shuts him up with a kiss, his arms tightening around Dean’s waist.

 

 

~end


End file.
